


A Demon's Dilemma

by Lilith_of_Eden



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2019-12-12
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:01:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21767254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilith_of_Eden/pseuds/Lilith_of_Eden
Summary: Something is wrong with Crowley. He has a runny nose, a throaty cough and wracking shivers. Aziraphale and friends try to rid him of this horrible cold.
Relationships: Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer, Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Kudos: 12





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1  
It was another dinner at the Ritz, but a celebratory one at that. Champagne was being shared, Aziraphale had a platter of fancy food in front of him and in Crowley's mind, everything was perfect. And then the waiter sneezed on him.  
"Dear me! You must excuse me, sir, I have the most terrible of colds! Work of the devil if you ask me..."  
"Yessss, yessss carry on..." hissed Crowley, rather annoyed that this pathetic waiter had interrupted his thoughts. After all, he and Aziraphale had just averted the apocalypse and heaven and hell were giving them some breathing space to... Catch up. And it was all going so well too! They had eaten lunch together at Aziraphale's favourite sushi restaurant, shouted at Crowley's plants together (well, Crowley had shouted and Aziraphale had complimented each and every one of them and apologized on behalf of Crowley for being so harsh). They had gazed up at the stars together on the balcony that miraculously appeared in Aziraphale's shop and they had thrown bread for the ducks together in Saint James's park. But most importantly, all of their time had been spent together. Crowley was besotted with his angel. Not that Aziraphale knew of course. He couldn't know. For a kind angel who could sense love, he was certainly oblivious to how Crowley felt. But that was ok. Crowley could wait. But not for long.  
"Are you alright my dear?" Aziraphale broke through the misty veil of his thoughts and Crowley jerked to attention. "You look rather... Well, dare I say, away with the fairies!"  
"Hmm? What's that angel? Oh right, yeah, I guess. Just thinking." replied Crowley.  
"Yes, well we must be off! It's 10 o'clock and I need to be getting some sleep." at this Aziraphale winked.  
"Ah, yes, be seeing you all then! Come on then angel!"  
They stood and left, making their way to the Bently. They climbed in and Aziraphale started fishing around in the glove box. He pulled out a CD and frowned.  
"I've never seen this one before Crowley, who it is?" Crowley glanced over and grinned.  
"This, Aziraphale, is a CD that has only been in this car for a couple of days. This is a CD that will play songs other than Queen. This is Muse- Simulation Theory." Aziraphale hummed contentedly and slid the disk into the slot. A couple of seconds later, it started to play and Crowley grinned.  
"This is my favourite. I'm sure you'll hate it."


	2. Chapter 2

At 11:30 pm, on one particular Tuesday, you could see a gloriously black vintage Bently whizzing down the streets of Soho, London at 90 mph. Inside, was one fast-living living demon and a somewhat fussy angel. The fast-living demon was sneezing vigorously and the fussy angel was trying not to laugh.  
"Bless you!" giggled Aziraphale and at this Crowley frowned.  
"M' a demon, angel, don't bloody bless me." At this, Aziraphale pouted.  
"Even so dear," said Aziraphale, "are you sure you are ok? You've been sneezing and sniffling the whole way back."  
"M' fine angel." And they reached Aziraphale's bookshop. They both climbed out of the Bentley and said their farewells. Crowley watched Aziraphale go and nearly rushed after him, wanting to tell his angel how he felt. But he didn't.  
Crowley arrived home shivering, his nose and ears as red as his hair, and flopped down into his sofa. There was something wrong with him, that much he knew. He wasn't referring to his misguided feelings for Aziraphale. His nose was running and blocked up at the same time, he was shaking with the cold and his ears had popped. Something was very wrong. Crowley had never seen anything like this in his life, and that was saying a lot, considering he was over 6000 years old. While every winter he came back home shivering, he had never before had a dripping nose, ears that couldn't hear properly and tears Crowley grabbed his Chromebook off of his marble table and searched up his symptoms. He scrawled down the screen, his heart drooping at every word he saw. The NHS, Wikipedia, some random thing called Ecosia and even Google were saying the same thing. They all mentioned these words; 'common cold'.  
Crowley would have sat down heavily if he had been standing up. There was only one thing to do, he decided. Time to get drunk.


	3. Chapter 3

Crowley awoke to the sound of his ansaphone. He must have dozed off on the sofa because he was still on it, tangled up with a cushion that had managed to climb up unto his head and slowly got up. He grabbed the phone and was greeted with the sound of Aziraphale's voice.  
"Hello, dear boy! I was wondering if you would like to come and have a picnic?"  
"Sniff, I would love to Aziraphale, but I really don't feel well enough. I feel absolutely rotten to the core." Came the muffled reply from Crowley. At hearing this, Aziraphale laughed.  
"You snake Crowley! I'm coming over to pull your lazy, overdramatic arse out of bed." and Aziraphale hung up. He had tried to mask the sound of disappointment with chirpiness and really hoped Crowley hadn't noticed how sad he was that he'd declined. Why hadn't he been able just to tell Aziraphale that he didn't want to come? He should have known that his feelings were one-sided, after all, demons aren't capable of love. But his optimistic side broke through. What if Crowley hadn't been lying? What if he really wasn't able to come because of something that had nothing to do with feelings? Maybe some demons had decided to pay him an untimely visit? Aziraphale had made his decision. He was going over to Crowley's flat to see what was happening.  
Meanwhile, Crowley was feeling terrible. In all the ways possible. His cold had only gotten worse and he felt frozen, but the thermometer claimed that he was a whopping 40°c. Feeling wise, he felt miserable. He had declined Aziraphale's request and he heard the disappointment hidden in Aziraphle's voice. Guilt washed over him and Crowley tried to ignore it but ailed. He so desperately wanted to go, but he couldn't let anyone see like this, let alone Aziraphale. Demons weren't supposed to get colds.


	4. Chapter 4

After an invigorating journey across London, Aziraphale arrived outside Crowley's front door and paused. Was he really just going to turn up unannounced? Well not truly unannounced, he thought, remembering his promise to come over and pull Crowley out of bed. Even so... Before he could think into it anymore, Aziraphale rung the bell.  
Crowley, dressed in black silk pyjamas, sneezing and shivering, was not the Crowley Aziraphale expected to open the door. Instantly Aziraphale was on high alert.  
"My dear boy! You weren't joking you said you were under the weather!" Crowley looked mortally embarrassed and turned to hide it. He leads the way into his sofa and promptly sprawled across it. Aziraphale got to work making some chicken soup. He wasn't entirely sure why Crowley had all this food in his fridge, or why he even had a fridge at all and was even less sure if Crowley would eat soup. Aziraphale was determined to try anyway. After 20 minutes of sludge, watery concoctions and complete and utter disaster, Aziraphale finally gave up. He miracled up a bowl of perfect tomato soup (he was fed up with chicken by then) and gave it to Crowley, who was looking thoroughly ill as he sipped it gingerly.   
"Is it alright my dear? You really don't look well," asked Aziraphale and Crowley nodded. He finished off the bowl and passed it to Aziraphale. Then he grabbed a blanket and fell into a deep slumber. Aziraphale was nervous and worried. He had never seen Crowley look so utterly devastated and ill since the Great Flood. Never before had he heard for celestial beings catching viruses before. It should have been impossible. Never the less, Aziraphale was determined to find out how Crowley had managed to catch a cold and, furthermore, he wanted to find the cure.


	5. Chapter 5

Aziraphale tried standing. He really did. But after an hour of the stuff, he just wanted to rest. He looked around for a place to sit and realized that it was currently being taken up by his demon friend. He walked over to Crowley and whispered,   
"I'm just going to take you to your bed. You'll be much more comfortable there." Crowley mumbled something about ducks as Aziraphale picked him up. His head drooped and he sniffled. Aziraphale started to walk around gently, in order not to wake Crowley, looking for his bedroom. After 10 solid minutes of walking and soft snoring, they arrived back at the lounge. Aziraphale sighed and set Crowley back down on the sofa. He snapped his fingers, a tartan armchair appeared and he settled down into it. He thought about how long he and Crowley had been friends. All the way back to Eden. In the garden, when they had first met, Aziraphale had been a little afraid of the demon, and rightfully so. But as they met again and again through the centuries, he had come to think of Crowley rather fondly. When Crowley had agreed to make Hamlet a famous play just because he asked, Aziraphale had felt the beginnings of something more than friendship towards him. When Crowley had slammed him against the wall in Tadfield manor, Aziraphale was flustered rather than intimidated. It had been rather difficult to not ruffle Crowley's hair! And when he had saved Aziraphale and his books of prophecy from the German spies and their bomb he had realized that he was in love with the red-headed demon. How he wished that his feelings were reciprocated. He knew that demons weren't possible of feeling love, only lust, but he hoped so desperately that Crowley would be the exception to that law of nature. Sighing, he settled down in his chair and began to read.


End file.
